


Hands-on Therapy

by irridescentsong, jcrowquill



Series: Kinship [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, bad choices, demented cuddling, implied cannabalism (surprise surprise), partially resolved sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irridescentsong/pseuds/irridescentsong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrowquill/pseuds/jcrowquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is late for his appointment after joining Alana for coffee, rousing Hannibal's possessive jealousy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lightly reformatted long-form roleplay between tumblr players, bloodspatteredgraham (irridescentsong) and fingersandwiches (jcrowquill). Irridescentsong writes for Will and jcrowquill writes for Hannibal, with some slight overlap and description by both. This is the second in what will likely be a longish set of scenes tracing Hannibal's manipulation and grooming of Will; it is canon divergent, meaning that the initial scene or scenes are reasonably canon, but the storyline will be heading in a different direction than the series.
> 
> This scene occurs several days after Fever Bright, which is set shortly after Buffet Froid. In Fever Bright, Will has stayed the night in Hannibal's care after his fever spiked, making driving unsafe. Hannibal, always the opportunist, took advantage of the situation to deepen his control over Will through physical contact.
> 
> All of the smut is in chapter 2, so you can follow the plot by just reading Chapters 1 and 3. :)

Dr. Lecter had always scheduled Will as his last appointment for the day, partly because the man’s intelligence and curiosity had ignited his interest since the first time he’d met him. He liked leaving his office with the profiler’s thoughts fresh in his mind; it helped to cleanse the lingering flavor of his more banal clients from his mental palate.

Will had called to say that he would be a few minutes late, which Hannibal appreciated. As he waited for him to arrive, he continued on with a sketch of the Seine. The movements of his pencil fluctuated between short and analytical and fluid and sensual. It depended in part on the needs of his piece, but it was also deeply influenced by the wanderings of his mind and whether he was contemplating the curve of Will Graham’s cheek or the angle of his hips.

At 7:40, he heard the sound of the outer door opening. He could tell that it was both tentative and rushed, and he called into the open reception, “Come in, Will.”

It had almost slipped Will’s mind until it was too late that he was running behind. Alana was a cheerful woman, despite her professional curiosity in him, and wanted to make sure that he was doing alright, particularly after seeing Abigail so much. Whether or not it was out of guilt at her rejection or simply because she was still interested in pursuing a relationship, he didn't quite know. However, he couldn't turn down her offer of a coffee even when he was absolutely intent on keeping things on a friends-only basis.

He let himself into the outer office, and then into the inner one, pausing in the doorway before shutting the door behind him.

"Sorry for being late," he said in advance, stepping into the open space without quite taking his seat yet. "Alana invited me for coffee after my lecture."

Hannibal’s pencil stilled for a moment at that statement as a possessive flare of jealousy warmed his chilly insides. He looked up at Will and gave just the briefest pause before smiling; with his subtle gestures, it was a clear indication that he was not overly pleased by his patient’s reason for tardiness. However, it was just as clear that he was not actually going to verbalize that displeasure.

“And how is Dr. Bloom?” he asked, setting aside the pencil and rising to his feet to greet him.

Will blinked slowly, recognizing the depth communicated in the small and almost imperceptible gestures of the doctor. He was not happy, that much was plain to see, and a subtle note was made in his mind - do not repeat the circumstances leading to this disappointment.

"She's, um, she's well," he said quietly, dropping his eyes automatically, his stammer practically shouting that he was uncomfortable with the fact that he'd displeased his colleague. "Wanted to know how I was feeling, how Abigail was doing."

Hannibal nodded, giving him a slight smile. He’d already made his disapproval clear, and there was no need to linger on it; already, he knew that Will had noted his expression and would likely spend the next few minutes trying to smooth over an offense that he hadn’t even uttered aloud. He gestured for Will to sit, withholding physical contact for now.

“And how are you feeling, Will?”

Will swallowed and stepped easily over to the chair before settling down into it, his eyes still fixed on his shoes.

"Tired, mostly. I woke up in the field behind my house last night. Tried to go back to sleep, but it just didn't work."

Perched on the edge of the seat, he looked as if he were ready to bolt at any moment. He was already berating himself for having upset his friend. Words weren't necessary when displeasure was written so plainly.

“Have your nightmares continued?” Hannibal inquired with a frown, walking around to take his own seat opposite his patient. Will’s body language was so easy for him to read; he could see so clearly that the other man was uncertain. A simple touch would have likely have put him at ease, but he wasn’t going to give him that after he had been late because of a woman whom he had kissed in the recent past.

“That is probably a foolish question...” the doctor said after a very brief pause, “What was the content of your dream?”

Will rubbed a palm into his eye, trying to make sense of the flash of images from the nightmare he'd had after waking up in the field.

"They were in a circle, facing me. Cassie Boyle, Marissa Shruer, and all the victims of Garret Jacob Hobbs. Blaming me for their deaths." Blinking, he set further back into the chair, just a touch. "'You should have killed her, so you wouldn't have killed me.' It's what they kept repeating at me."

Hannibal nodded, thinking on a similar dream that Abigail had related to him recently. He wasn’t sure if she had shared that particular imagery with her emotionally susceptible surrogate father, but it didn’t mean that the empath hadn’t picked up the same vibrations from the victims themselves. He enjoyed considering the connection either way, the way someone else might enjoy a leisurely game of sudoku, but he felt no need to mention their darling “daughter.”

“Mm,” he mused consideringly, “This is a recurring nightmare for you. Your fixation with Garret Jacob Hobbs concerns me with its intensity and its persistence. I know your waking mind does not harbor this depth of guilt, so I wonder what is continuing to cause these dreams.”

Will nodded at the words, relaxing slightly as the conversation continued on. "If I could just get him - out of my head, it would make things a lot easier." He sighed quietly before relaxing the rest of the way into the seat, letting it cup his thin form. "I keep seeing him. Even when I'm not asleep."

“Well... we have established that there are times when you have dissociated from reality, particularly when you are already passing through the mental states of others. I feel as though the trauma of killing Hobbs has created a sort of... fixed point in your mind, and when you’re feeling unstable or frightened, something triggers the association and you believe that you are in that moment, seeing him.”

He leaned forward slightly as he looked at Will.

Will swallowed hard, trying to put the words into better order into his mind, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands to his eyes again in an almost distressed fashion.

"You're saying, my mind is associating unrelated events and- and transposing Hobbs there?"

The older man could see that Will was beginning to retreat into himself and he needed to ground him again. He rose to his feet and walked over to fluidly crouch down beside him, resting his hand on Will’s wrist.

“Yes, this is what I believe,” the doctor said, “He is obviously not there, so there is no way that you could actually be seeing him. He is quite dead. Quite dead, thankfully.”

At the touch to his wrist, Will looked up, blinking the world back into focus from cramming his hands against his eyes to prevent seeing the dead man again.

"I know I'm not really seeing him. But what am I seeing? Empty space? Things that he's taking the place of?" His eyes held an almost lost quality, as if the answers to his questions scared him.

“It would depend on the situation, but I believe you’re seeing him instead of other people,” Hannibal said. He watched Will’s eyes for a moment, then took his hand and brought it to his lips, “We need to break this fixation on Hobbs.”

Will blinked rapidly, the words refuting the argument that he was somehow fixated on the dead man on the tip of his tongue. However, the light touch to his fingers made the words scatter, leaving him unable to piece them back together again.

"I'm not-"

“You obviously are... otherwise we wouldn’t be discussing this problem. I haven’t ascertained yet how to resolve these feelings of - I believe - fear and guilt.”

"I'm not- not afraid of him," Will said with a shake of his head. "I feel guilty for taking away Abigail's family, but I also don't because he was a murderer."

“You’re very defensive,” Hannibal observed, still lightly holding his hand, “You fear what killing Hobbs might make you, and you worry at the differences between the murders that he committed and the one that you committed in killing him. You understand him well enough to realize that he also had justifications, and you worry that your justifications might not be any more valid than his were, or that you would be able to justify killing another in the future. This scares you, and your guilt over Abigail - which always seems to ignore that you saved her life as well - compounds this.”

He wondered for a moment if perhaps Abigail had passed the moment that had given her life purpose. She had certainly been useful to him for a time; her initial victimhood had allowed him to get a firmer hold on Will initially, and their dark, shared secret of Abigail’s murdering heart had fostered a deeper reliance. And he didn’t really even know the true selfishness of their figurative child and the lengths to which she would go to save her own life. Over and over.

It made him fond of her, softened his judgments and sharpened his curiosity.

Still, she was becoming reckless as she began to fall apart, and her movements, while fascinating, were becoming more dangerous to everyone involved. Her time in their lives was drawing to a close, and in contemplation of this Hannibal added thoughtfully, “Truly, you would likely be healthier if you minimized your contact with her, but I know that this is not acceptable to you.”

"I-I took her family from her. I can't abandon her," Will said quickly, a small touch of horror in his eyes at the suggestion. All of the doctor's words were true though. What made him any different than Hobbs? He hadn't been Will's first victim, but it had been a long time since anyone prior. This place was safe, where he could retreat and entrust himself to someone else for a period of time, to take the weight off his shoulders if only for an hour or so. He trusted the psychiatrist implicitly, knew within himself that he wouldn't lead him wrong.

"I've orphaned her."

“Her father orphaned her,” Hannibal pointed out considerably more objectively, “You saved her life. This is a major distinction that you need to recognize.” 

He lightly caressed Will’s hand with the tips of his fingers, then released it and rose to take his place opposite him again. Immediately, the younger man missed the soft touches and the strong yet delicate fingertips on his own hand, but he forced his attention away from it, settling better into the chair, more openly than before. Hannibal’s body language was open and considerably more welcoming than it had been when he had first sat down; now that he had reassured Will through touch that his slight had been forgiven, it was time to get down to the work of psychiatry, the less comfortable portion of the profiler’s visit.

"It's hard for me to justify that I saved her when I killed her father," Will said quietly. "She watched both of her parents die and almost died herself. I can't help but wonder if she sometimes wishes that we hadn't saved her..." A contemplative look came over his face, his eyes seeing only into the middle-distance.

Hannibal nodded, “I’m sure that in that dramatic fashion that is unique to teenage girls, she occasionally wishes that she had died. However, we have seen already that she is a survivor... and her tenacity and desire to live has been demonstrated in numerous indisputable ways; she has never given up, and she has no desire to do so.”

The doctor glanced down for a moment as he prepared his words, then looked back up to his colleague, “She lived in terror of her father, Will. We both know that. The only way that she could live was with her father dead. It is an unfortunate trade, but I would rather have Abigail in this world.”

Will nodded, knowing that the truth was there in the doctor's words, that they had truly saved her. But it didn't stop his own actions from haunting him, nor her father's. "I would rather have her here too, but I suppose that's why I feel it's my responsibility to be her father. Or at least some semblance of it. She's traded one murdering father for another..."

“Remember to consider her needs and desires Will, and make sure that you are not attempting to be her father for reasons other than her well-being. Selfish reasons motivated by guilt. While I too feel a certain protectiveness for her, remember that we are taking on only figurative roles of responsibility... Your guilt is something you need to deal with on your own, not through Abigail rehabilitating you.”

"I'm not trying to lean on her, I just want her to make good choices. To have a chance." It was fair to want something for people you cared about that is better than you had, right? Will sighed gently before relaxing into the chair, letting his head rest on the top of the modern leather thing. "Since I can't let Abigail out of my life, what is my best chance at rehabilitation?"

“I think you will gradually put distance between yourself and what happened; it is human nature to forget as a means of coping with unpleasant things. What you need to do in the meantime is come to terms with your own feelings on the issue. I think that sorting through your guilt is the first step, and once you have done that it will become easier to mitigate your fear.”

"I'm not afraid," Will said quietly after a moment of introspection. "Not of him." He shook his head as if to further push his insistence that he wasn't afraid of the dead man. "But the guilt, it eats at me. Gets under my skin. Like I can't scrub it away. I- I don't know how to get rid of it."

“The best way that I can think of to manage it is to assess it critically... to consider what you actually did, what the consequences have been... and what the consequences would have been if you would have failed to act.”

"I killed a man. A murderer. Pulled the trigger nine times and he died. I saved a life. If I hadn't have killed him, Abigail would be dead." The words were as cold and objective as Will could make them, but they still held a quiet shakiness to them that he never could get rid of.

“And?” Dr. Lecter prompted, “What else? I was unarmed, and if you hadn’t acted, he certainly would have killed us both, and likely taken down several police officers if he was cornered. If he was not cornered, and was able to get away... there is no telling how many other girls may have been his victims.”

"He would have killed us, but would he have killed again, after finally being able to kill Abigail?" A part of him doubted that Hobbs would've killed after finally achieving what he'd been murdering all those other girls for. "He had a knife, but I could've disarmed him. He could've been taken into custody,” Will swallowed quickly, his throat dry as he looked up. "But we would've lost Abigail."

“And that is an unacceptable loss,” Hannibal pointed out. He chuckled softly, “And I appreciate not having been killed as well.”

"I would have disarmed him before he could have touched you," Will said protectively, the weight of the words hitting him with sudden power. "I would have shot him if he'd've gone for you."

The doctor liked that assurance and smiled slightly and looked down briefly, showing Will that he was flattered. He looked back to him and said, “Which he would have. His death was inevitable, Will, because he was prepared to kill any of us. The burden fell on you because you were the only one in the room who was able to do it.”

He paused and tilted his head to the side before adding, “And I am sorry that I could not have been the one with the gun, and thereby absolved you of responsibility.”

Will shook his head lightly, leaning forward in the chair. "I wouldn't have wanted it to be you. You're a civilian, it's not your burden to carry." He swallowed slightly before settling back, leaning on one of the leather arms. "I know it was my responsibility. I just wish I could stop seeing him. He haunts me."

“It will become less painful,” Hannibal assured him. He glanced at his wristwatch, then said, “Because of your tardiness, your scheduled appointment has come to its end...”

At the new mention of his lateness, Will paled again, his body shrinking back into a posture of apology automatically. "I didn't mean to be late. I am sorry."

“It’s all right,” the doctor said, lifting his hand in a gesture to quiet him. He shook his head, then rose fluidly to his feet, “As the saying goes, life happens.”

He still felt intensely guilty for being late, but Will stood, nodding.

"Often in the oddest ways, too," he said as he smiled, the corner of his mouth turned up. "I suppose I should let you get to your evening."

Dr. Lecter walked over to rest his hands on his patient’s shoulders and ease him back down to sitting. He smiled as he leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his brow, then his mouth. He knelt down before him, his body comfortably placed between the younger man’s knees and his hands resting lightly on his thighs. He lifted his dark eyes to his colleague’s face, “I was hoping that you would be my evening, if Dr. Bloom hasn’t distracted you too much.”

Will shook his head quickly, the rejection and guilt fading away to a quiet, dull prick instead of the sharp, living thing it had been just moments ago.

"I can tell you with certainty that this is not the sort of evening I would like to spend in her company," he murmured quietly, leaning down to kiss him back softly on the mouth before slouching down in the chair.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm glad," Hannibal mused, leaning up between his thighs to press his upper body against him rather intimately as he slid his long fingers up into his thick, soft hair. He pressed a slow, sensual kiss to his mouth, his unoccupied hand lightly stroking the subtle weave of his trouser leg.

Will swallowed at the intimate caress, feeling more like the doctor was touching the inside of him, like wet silk against his skin, against the very core of him.

“You’re the only one who cares about me on a personal level,” he murmured quietly against his lips, curving gentle fingers against his cheek. It was unbelievably smooth, even this late in the day, so very different from his own perpetually stubbled cheeks.

The doctor smiled and kissed the center of his lower lip, "It's because I know you."

He turned his head to the side several degrees, easing the younger man's hand into his hair as though he were a cat demanding to be stroked. As he did, he leaned closer to kiss the side of his neck over the sensitive pulse point below his ear. He could smell the salt on his skin, the day's wear on his clothes, the lingering scent of his shampoo and soap. 

The taste of him was exquisite.

Will practically shuddered at the soft press of his kisses to his throat, a small noise working free from his chest. A hand curled through his hair, messing up the neatly combed-back hairstyle the doctor usually wore, freeing it from the hold of whatever product he used.

“You know who I am,” he murmured quietly, sliding his fingers through strands of softness and silk and taking great pride in messing it up.

The older man smiled slightly, allowing Will to drag his fingers through his hair even though it would only get more mussed as the evening progressed. He could feel his fingertips sliding smoothly over his scalp, his short nails just barely registering as a separate sensation. He liked the touch, liked that Will took his gentle encouragement so well. 

"Yes, I do."

He mouthed lightly at his throat, pressing kisses and light bites to his surprisingly smooth skin. His hand slid upward to his lap, where he caressed him through his trousers. His companion wasn't aroused yet, not really, and Hannibal's ego needed for him to be in a fog of lust for him.

Will tipped his head back at the tender movements against his throat, a soft groan vibrating in the column of flesh.

“Are-are you sure this is safe?” he murmured lightly, his head falling almost over to rest on his shoulder, exposing more of his neck in an unconscious display of submission. His knees splayed out wider, hips arching more into the contact.

The doctor laughed against his skin, then nipped lightly. He told him softly, "You're my last appointment and as you know, I have no assistant... The neighboring businesses close at 6, and it's just past 8."

He dipped his chin and deftly undid the top button of Will's shirt with his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue against the hollow between his collarbones. 

"I could make you scream and no one would be the wiser."

Will made a half-stuttered noise at the doctor’s words, biting his lip. Being made to scream? Scream out in pleasure like hadn’t coursed through his body in so many years? Oh, how he wanted that. “Y-yes-” was all he could manage before he brought his face down to kiss his colleague with something he’d not felt before.

Hannibal met his kiss with appreciation and returned his intensity in kind, wanting to encourage this sort of open passion. He was oddly charmed by a stuttering profiler, but the glimpses he’d seen of the sensual side of him had intrigued him; he wanted more of him. He slid his tongue against Will’s, the hand at the front of his trousers almost distractedly unfastening the closure before running his fingernail down the teeth of the now-open zipper. He did want to make Will scream.

His eyes threatened to flick down, watch the strong yet delicate fingers undo the zipper of his trousers, but opening them and looking seemed to be truly too much effort at the moment. Instead, his mind took in every nuance of the kiss, the slick way their tongues slid together and the tastes of them meshed. His fingers didn't leave the small play they had against Hannibal's hair, curving against his scalp tenderly.

The doctor kissed him for a moment longer, the movements of his hands surprisingly smooth as he undid his trousers and drew his length from his utilitarian blue boxers. He stroked him slowly, keeping a firm thumb pressed against the underside of the shaft.

At the hand around his arousal, Will moaned slightly and slumped back in the chair, unwilling to lose his hands' place in the doctor's hair though he let his fingertips slide over his smooth cheek once more. Half-lidded eyes peeked over the line of his clothing, rumpled and slightly rucked up from sliding in his seat, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, worrying at it, stopping all sounds from escaping.

Hannibal turned his head to kiss his jaw, then the stretch of his throat as his strong, slim hand continued to slowly stroke him. He could tell by this reaction, even more than his own admission several nights before, that Will hadn't had any hands on him other than his own in quite some time. Smiling, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the thin margin of skin visible between the bottom of Will's hiked-up shirt and the waist of his trousers, his cheek brushing against his prick.

"Ah," Will gasped quietly, the combination kiss and teasing touch made his cock jump, the softness of Hannibal's cheek contrasted with his own work-worn hands. He had hardly done anything and already Will felt like he was on the edge, just waiting to be pushed over. It was a precipice, and he was already halfway over into the cliff and just leaning over the edge to see how far the fall really was.

"W-would you really? Make me scream?"

"I would," Hannibal said, raising his eyes to the younger man's face, "I can think of few things I would enjoy more."

He turned his head to take the head of Will's cock into his mouth. It was smooth on his tongue, slightly salty with a faintly milky, musky undertone. He inhaled through his nose, breathing in the scent of his arousal as he pressed forward until the tip of his prick bumped the back of his throat.

Will swallowed and bit his lip, eyes dropping down to watch the slightly ruffled head of his colleague in his lap. His breath came in a stuttered pant, a hand curving through his soft hair, not pressing him forward, just resting against the crown of his head.

"Th-that- good god-"

Taking his tone as encouragement, Hannibal pulled back, keeping his lips taut. He bobbed his head slowly, keeping the flat of his tongue pressed across the full width of his cock. He felt good in his mouth, tasted good, and Will’s movements beneath his hands made him want to do a lot more to him. He set a moderate pace, responding to the occasional twitch of his companion’s hips, using his lips, teeth, and tongue to quickly build sensation for Will.

His hips moved unbidden, squirming under the slick movements against his arousal. Will’s free hand fisted on top of the arm of the chair as he tried to control the urge to bury it in his lover’s hair with the other. He wanted to keep that slickness and its associated sensations from becoming too much, and yet he couldn’t let it stop. It was all at once so much that it could have made him come right then.

“H-Hannibal, please-”

The other man laughed softly to himself, pleased by Will’s desperate tone, and eased up on him. He slowed his pace, then lifted his head to work his tongue more delicately at the tip, tracing the rim of the head, pressing at the dart-shaped indentation on the underside, and sliding the tip of his tongue through the slit.

“Please what?”

Will huffed softly at the continued sensation, hips jerking with more vigor now as he tried to either get more friction or become less back away from the edge, neither of which was happening.

"I need- I need to come, please," he pleaded, brushing a hand through his hair again, wanting to tug and force him back down. "Please."

Hannibal laughed again softly, the sound a low, sensual rumble. He met his Will’s eyes, enjoying the flush in his cheeks, then said softly, “No, not yet.”

He leaned down again to tease him with his tongue, his hands coming to rest on his hips to hold him in place. Will’s hips had jerked several times already, bucking forward to try to get more stimulation to finish him off and push him beyond the maddening plateau. Perhaps if Will hadn’t been late because of Dr. Bloom, Hannibal would have made it easy and let him come right away. But now he felt possessive and in need of some self-gratification, and that came at the cost of the profiler’s sexual frustration.

Will bit his lip, the strong grasp on his hips preventing him from moving any further than within the cup of the doctor’s hands. His breath was a near-whine as he stilled himself, not wanting to upset his lover by disappointing him. The sensation was keeping him on the edge, not enough to actually make him come, but he was so close to it that it would only take another word or two of encouragement to have him riding it out.

Hannibal kept him on that edge for several minutes, bringing him closer, to the point where he felt the younger man’s back arching and all of his muscles tightening down in anticipation before backing off before he could find release. His colleague’s panting moans and quiet whines were getting louder and his breathing rougher.

After dragging Will to the brink of orgasm again, he pulled back completely and told him softly, “Take off your shoes and trousers... and don’t touch yourself.”

The doctor had a dark little smile that promised all sorts of pleasure for him.

Will bit his lip - he was going to put a hole in the damn thing from worrying it so much - and stood once there was enough room to do so. The temptation to put a hand around himself and stroke his cock until he came was high, but he knew better than that. Instead he undid his shoes and kicked them off, but left his socks on in favor of taking down his trousers and boxers. The fabric stretched as he pulled it out and down over his hardened arousal. He slid them off his legs before settling back down into the chair, looking up with expectant eyes. He'd been good, had done what he was told.

As he did that, Hannibal climbed to his feet and walked to his desk. There was a bottle of hand lotion in his desk that normally served only the very innocent purpose of protecting his hands in the dry Maryland winters. He rubbed a bit of the salve into his palms, then gave a thicker application to his first two fingers as he watched Will disrobe. He liked the look of his feet in socks, the curves of his slim calves and knees up to his thighs and hips. He liked knowing that the flush on his fair skin and the straining arousal between his thighs was for him alone. The soft smile and easy meeting of their eyes was enough reassurance for Will that he'd done good. Something inside him warmed more, knowing that he'd pleased his companion.

He walked back to him and took his place between his now-bare thighs. Meeting his eyes and smiling slightly, he lifted Will’s foot and rested it lightly on his shoulder, crooking his knee and tilting his hips upward to give him better access to him. He turned his head to kiss the inside of his knee as he lifted his other hand to press lightly at the tight entrance to his body. He just caressed for a moment, circling and smoothing the lotion onto the taut ring of muscle without penetrating him, then gently eased two slicked fingers into him.

He was pliable to Hannibal's movements, but it didn't stop the slight jerk in his limbs, almost a twitch, when smooth slick fingers slid against the cleft of his body. He tried to keep himself still, but the two fingers pressing into him was too much at the moment, burned too badly, and his hips thrashed once, almost trying to retreat from the contact.

"B-burns," he stammered out, fingers curling in the leather arms of the sofa. "Too much." It had been years since he'd had any contact other than his own hand, and at that, those instances were far and few between.

The doctor immediately withdrew his fingers and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth, murmuring, "Shh, it's alright. I'm sorry."

Pain wasn't what he intended for Will now, not when he was building the younger man's trust and dependence. He lightly caressed his side, staying close to him.

Will shook his head lightly, the pained half-expression disappearing quickly with relief. "It's alright. You don't need to-to apologize. It's just been a very long time."

One hand peeled away from where he had been clutching at the leather arm of the chair, moving now to smooth over the soft cheek of his companion. "Slowly, please-."

Hannibal nodded, turning his head to kiss his palm. His hand moved downward again, and this time, he caressed slightly before slowly easing his index finger into him. He watched his lover's face intently to make sure that he wasn't hurting him.

The slow pace and and gentler movements were much easier for Will to adjust to; he relaxed his tensed muscles purposefully, eyes fluttering shut and resting his dark lashes against his cheekbone. The hand that he'd stroked against Hannibal's cheek remained, drawing soft fingertips over the shell of his ear as he finally nodded, giving himself a few long moments of preparation.

"Go ahead."

The older man had changed his tack slightly though. He gently slid his finger in and out of him as he leaned in to kiss him deeply, twisting as he withdrew on each movement.

He flicked his gaze up to Will's flushed face and asked, "More?"

Will nodded against his lips, kissing him back with a matching level of intensity befote placing another kiss halfway on his mouth and halfway off of it.

"Yes, more would be- be good."

He nipped softly at the doctor's bottom lip, licking over it to soothe away the pain.

Hannibal gentled a second finger into him again, feeling his own pulse quicken and drop to his groin at the tight grip of Will's body. He carefully thrust with his fingers, spreading and twisting them slightly to open him. He kissed him back, a quick chase after the younger man's nip, then pressed several heated, open-mouthed kisses to his neck. The front of his suit vest brushed against his otherwise-neglected prick, but Hannibal was focusing his attentions elsewhere.

Will gasped lightly at the contact between the fabric of the doctor's waistcoat and his cock, widening his thighs slightly more with the insistent press of fingers into him. God, it felt amazing, a simple pleasure that he'd forgotten felt so wonderful. The pent-up need still burned under his skin and it made Will want to rut against the soft plaid pattern of Hannibal's waistcoat until he left evidence all over its neat weave.

Hannibal could feel the tension in him and didn't shy away from the contact. However, he turned his hand slightly and curved his fingers upward. Instead of thrusting with them, he sought out the nerves at his core that would make him come undone. He felt the smooth, slightly rounded surface under his fingertips and lightly caressed and prodded, lifting his eyes to Will's face for a moment before he lowered his head again. 

He didn't take his prick into his mouth again; instead, he lingered close enough for his breath to warm his skin before pressing his lips to the head.

Will's instant reaction was to thrust his hips against the touch, the nerves lighting a fire under his skin from being on the edge for so long. It made him feel incredibly aroused and flushed all at once, feeling quite like he was leaking from the tip of his cock. If he looked down, likely he would find that he was, but that could also cause him to come already, just the sight of a dark head nestled in his lap. He would restrain himself because he wanted to please Hannibal, to let him dictate when he was allowed to orgasm, to let his voice be the grounding sensation in his life.

Hannibal teased him with his fingers for a moment longer, following the twitches and spasms of his hips easily to keep his touch consistent and inescapable; he knew that the sensation was overwhelming and he guessed that it was also new. Judging by the tension in his thighs, he also knew that his companion wouldn't last long under his skilled attentions.

He wanted certain things. He leaned closer to take Will's cock into his mouth, this time with the intention of finally allowing him to come. He moved his tongue on the head with delicate precision, tasting the bitter salt of his arousal and deeply enjoying it as he relentlessly pleasured him with his fingers.

Will's hips squirmed around, unable to escape the sensation of his prostate being stimulated. It was entirely new and never before had anyone expressed this much care or consistency with him, a genuine and mutual level of respect, trust, and, to some degree completely on his own side, utter dependency. The engulfing warmth around his arousal was pushing him faster towards the limit of not being able to keep himself from orgasm, a hand curling down to squeeze tightly at the doctor's shoulder, a warning that he was rapidly coming undone just moments before his body tightened up, spilling his pent up arousal with a sharp cry of completion, the edge of it tapered off with shuddering breaths as he came down from the edge, body pulsing and heart beating entirely too fast in his chest. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

The doctor swallowed quickly once, but let the second mouthful linger. Still slowly moving his fingers within him, his other hand moved to Will's jaw and pulled him to meet his open-mouth kiss. With his tongue still thick with his lover's release, he kissed the younger man demandingly to claim him again.

The taste was slightly bitter and surprising against his tongue as he had not expected to taste himself, but Will enjoyed it and was desperate to stay as still as possible, half-folded in the chair kissing the doctor with undisguised need. Every press of fingers inside him made his body clench, wanting to wring more pleasure from them, but already convinced that he wouldn’t be able to get anything more than he had already. One hand found its way back into Hannibal’s soft hair, keeping him close but more than willing to let go if he wanted to do so.

Hannibal felt Will’s nose scrunch slightly in surprise, but he knew that it wasn’t disgust when the younger man’s kisses turned almost more desperate. It amused and aroused him as he continued to kiss him, rubbing his fingertips in light circles and continuing to ping on his weary nerves. His tongue slid against Will’s as he transferred more of the slick white fluid to his lover’s mouth.

The temptation to keep pushing Will beyond his his refractory period and make him come again dry was tempting. The broken-off, half-choked sob of pleasure that Will had given him already echoed in his thoughts, making him want more. The way his muscles clenched around his fingers, so tight that it was almost painful, made him want to take him then, though he had already decided that he would not.

When he pulled back and swallowed, he looked at him consideringly before smearing the lingering come across Will’s lower lip. He kissed him wetly on the mouth, then cheek, pressing his fingers upward within him with slightly more pressure.

It was something like a mark of ownership, something like belonging to someone, and there was almost a pang of relief in Will’s chest at the intimate action. He surely looked thoroughly debauched, half-dressed and with his own release smeared across his face. He licked slowly at his bottom lip, not to clean it, but merely enticingly as his body clenched down on the invading fingers, toying with his nerves.

“Do you want to come again?” he asked softly, watching the profiler’s deep, soft eyes.

“I d-didn’t think you could-”

The older man smiled, kissing his neck, “It would be more accurate to say you could have a second orgasm... you wouldn’t come again, not like that.”

His soft accent made the words seem somehow more obscene, a perfect complement to Will’s damp, debauched lips. His other hand slid down to lightly grasp his softening prick, which he stroked with a slow, steady grip. He laughed softly, “And it could be very frustrating... almost agonizing.”

As he pressed a kiss to his jaw, he murmured against his ear, “But very intense.”

Will swallowed almost anticipatorily, letting out his ravaged breathing in a quiet sigh at the words.

“No-no long term effects?”

It wasn’t entirely the question he’d meant to ask, but if he couldn’t get off again, he didn’t want to end up being frustrated without relief for goodness who knew how long.

“I’ve- I’ve never-” He’d become a bumbling, babbling man lost in his own mind it seemed, but it was just the aftereffects of the mind-shattering orgasm that had left him in a perpetual state of haziness. “Never done that before.”

Hannibal laughed softly, pressing a teasingly light kiss to his neck, “You’ll be weak in the knees and you’ll sleep like the dead tonight...”

He sucked lightly on his flushed skin just above his collarbone, then bit lightly. He eased up on his prostate in favor of just fingering him as he made his way back down to kneeling between his thighs. He pressed a kiss to the crease between his hip and thigh, murmuring, “You can say no, if you want.”

The metaphorical hole Will had worn into his lip from biting it so often was once again opened back up as he took serious consideration of the offer. Weak in the knees he could do, and sleeping like the dead, well, that was more than welcome. His eyes closed briefly as he thought and when he reopened them, there was almost a look of resolve in his eyes as he smiled.

“I’m saying yes,” Will murmured, shifting lightly against the sticky leather.

Hannibal laid his head on Will’s bare thigh, turning his eyes back up to his face, He smiled slowly, pleased that his prey was playing along so well. He was so eager to please, so charmingly sensual; he could play Will’s body like a fine instrument, and not in a Tobias Budge sort of way.

“If it becomes too much, please tell me to stop,” he murmured, then kissed his inner thigh as he pressed his fingers into him deeply again. 

Will nodded quickly, sliding his hands back to rest on the arms of the chair. Time and persistence, he would need to master them both in order to survive this.

“I’ll- I’ll tell you if- if it is,” he managed quickly, voice still dark with a raspy quality to it, belaying the arousal he felt still, even after his previous orgasm.

Hannibal nodded, then dipped his head down to take Will’s half-hard prick into his mouth. He expertly worked the pointed tip of his tongue around the head, then lapped at the shaft to awaken a full arousal. He could feel that his lover was oversensitive by how his body jerked at each application of his tongue and each twitch of his fingers.

Each movement over his sensitive flesh sent Will into half-aborted movements, soft jerking sensations wracking his limbs as he tried his best to hold still. It didn’t work as well as he would’ve liked; his hips shifted and squirmed in the chair as each touch to his nerves sent him down the path of higher arousal.

The older man moved easily with him, persistently pushing him to his limits, applying his tongue and fingers to make him writhe in the seat and cry out over and over. He expertly used his teeth and tongue to build sensation, his unoccupied hand caressing the inside of his thigh before moving up to cup his testicles. 

He pulled back a moment and breathed, “Come on, you can do it...”

Will's head rolled from side to side on his shoulders, the arousal coursing through his system again, building up in his veins and in his bones until all he could do was writhe from the sensation, hips squirming from side to side as it continued to build. Will panted softly with need, worrying again at his lip as he tried to bring himself over the edge, force himself back into that state of euphoric high.

Hannibal’s mouth was on him again, hot and demanding as he pushed Will toward a second peak. He wanted to remind him that it wasn’t going to feel the same, but he was sure that Will knew; his muscles were gripping his fingers hard, tensing and spasming about him. He closed his eyes, applying all of his attention to Will’s body.

The profiler swallowed again, a short half-shuddered gasp issuing from his lips as his entire body seized, forcing him over the edge of the cliff he’d been precariously teetering on.

“F-fuck, ahgod-” His exhalation was a combination of the doctor’s name mixed with a long low moan of satisfaction that left him shuddering in the aftermath of the orgasm wracking his body.

Hannibal lifted his head so that he could just watch his lover’s face as the tremors of release rolled through him. Though Will had experienced another orgasm, there was little semen and no new mess. He leaned up to kiss him, laying a hand against his jaw and holding him there for a moment. 


	3. Chapter 3

The doctor pulled back and leaned his brow against Will’s, murmuring, “That was just how I wanted you to be....”

Will’s head tipped forward, resting against the doctor’s forehead with the small bit of strength left in him as he tried to regain control of his breathing, chest heaving with ragged gasps.

"H-how’s that?” he panted, eyes half-lidded and eyelashes dripping with sweat. His entire body was soaked with it, both in fever and with the exertion his body had undergone.

Hannibal laughed softly, leaning in to kiss him lightly on the mouth as he withdrew his fingers. His voice was quiet and remarkably gentle, “Just as you were, Will. Just you.”

Will chuckled softly, his body still shuddering as it calmed from the aftershocks still rolling through him.

“Glad- you liked.”

If it had been up to him, he could have easily curled up in the sweat-sticky leather chair and gone to sleep, the exhaustion already taking root in his bones.

The doctor sat back and lightly stroked his thigh. Will’s nerves were still alight, and he could feel him quivering beneath his hand; clearly that second one had taken a lot out of him. He smiled smugly, pleased with himself and pleased with his companion’s obvious acceptance of everything that he had done.

“You’re barely going to be able to stand up,” he teased in a soft, mild tone, “The least I can do for putting you through all that is offer you supper and a warm bed.”

Will nodded lamely, trying to push himself up to a proper sitting position instead of the slumped one he had retreated into.

“Could I leave my car here?” he murmured quietly, voice still trembling. “D-don’t think I should drive right now.”

Hannibal laughed, leaning down to kiss the top of his leg, “Of course...”

He reached for Will’s discarded clothing and mused, “Shall I help you dress? You appear to be completely limp... I don’t know if you’re going to stay awake long enough for supper. I suppose I could just reheat the stew that I made yesterday, if you don’t mind left over. That’s not what I would like to serve a guest, but with a Boston Bib lettuce salad and some bread, I think it would be all right...”

The thought of food was entirely unappealing at this juncture, but he knew that the good doctor would certainly need to eat.

"Don't- don't trouble yourself for me," Will murmured quietly, reaching for his boxers. Every movement took effort after the orgasm that had run its course through his body and he slumped against the arm of the chair. "B-but I would appreciate the help."

Hannibal laughed as he helped Will back into his boxers and trousers, sliding them up his legs and letting the younger man wriggle the rest of the way into them. He slipped one of Will's slim feet into his shoe, then rested that foot on his own leg as he laced the plain brown shoe.

"It doesn't trouble me," he answered mildly, "Are you hungry at all? If you're not hungry, I could also just prepare a cheese board."

Will scooted around in the chair until he could pull the boxers and trousers back up, fastening them around his waist.

"No, I'm not that hungry," he said with a small chuckle, letting Hannibal manipulate his legs until both shoes were tied and he could attempt to stand. Attempt being the key word as his legs threatened to give out when he tried to stand. "I may eat some cheese, if you have it. Or whatever you have on hand." The last thing he wanted to do was to be a burden.

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, then said, "Then that is what we will do. It will only take a few minutes to prepare."

He climbed gracefully to his feet, then leaned in to kiss Will lightly, "If you'll excuse me for just a moment...?"

So saying, he walked out into the main part of the office and into the small, luxurious little bathroom off of the reception. There, he first washed his hands, then his face, before smoothing his hair back neatly and setting his clothes to rights. He own erection was still noticable behind the soft swank of his trousers, and he was still full of a deep, slow-burning want, but outwardly he looked like elegant, composed Dr. Lecter.

He wet a paper towel, then returned to find that Will had taken a seat again. He wasn't surprised; he knew that the younger man had been left weak-kneed and shaking. Moving to perch lightly on the arm of the chair, something he would never allow a patient to do, Hannibal calmly took his companion's face in his hands and cleaned up the smudges of drying semen on his chin and cheeks.

With that accomplished, he ran his fingers lightly, possessively, through the profiler's hair, smoothing and shaping it back to his usual level of muss. His fingers trailed down to his collar, where he refastened the upper buttons.

Will's eyes blinked slowly as he returned to sitting almost slumped over in the chair, legs gone weak with the effort of keeping himself upright. The man who returned to the office was the cool, calm, and collected doctor that he had come to know, no longer portraying the earlier wanton and pleasing mussed looks he had achieved.

The fingers cleaning his face with the towel were almost too gentle, barely there, but the wetness left behind was the evidence that remained, and Will was thankful for the fact that he had been cleaned up sufficiently. Though chances were likely small that they would be stopping anywhere between the office and the doctor's home, he still appreciated it. Slowly he blinked again, tipping his head back so that the column of his throat was displayed, as well as the buttons that needed fastening, his own fingers far too shaky to tackle that task yet.

"Do you want some help?" he murmured, eyes dropping to the older man's groin. "If you want-."

Hannibal laughed softly, reaching down to rebutton Will's trousers, "Perhaps after supper... You'll fall asleep if I don't get something into you."

The innuendo was playful but intentional. It was still a sort of control, not allowing Will to touch him, and he was enjoying it.

He kissed the darker-haired man lightly on the mouth, the contact lingering and slightly sensual as he smoothed his shirt. Then he stood and offered Will a hand up.

"Shall we go?"

Will laughed lightly, a pleasant hum of satisfaction settled into his bones, reinforced just that much more by the neurochemicals floating around in his brain, the reassuring touches and gentle yet subtle being taken care of reminding him that he could trust the doctor, could listen to him and be able to depend on him. His hand slid into Hannibal's as he stood, the other braced on the arm of the chair as he got his footing, nodding softly.

"I think that's for the best," he mumbled quietly, taking a careful step away from the chair and towards the older man, a satisfied yet sleepy smile on his lips.

The doctor gave him a last once-over once he was on his feet, noting that though he had been tidied up, there was nothing that could diminish the glowing, glossy-eyed, freshly fucked look about him. He rather wished that Dr. Bloom could see him now.

Though her professionalism, or jealousy perhaps, would bring her directly into Jack’s office to expose their forbidden relationship. He’d kill her before she ever had the opportunity, though it would disappoint him to do so. Realistically, he knew that she could never know.

He slipped a surprisingly strong arm about him once he was on his feet, snugging him up against his firm side. He was slightly over six feet tall and rarely looked small, but the clothes he chose often masked the strength of his long limbs.

"Onward, then."

He look on leisurely, loping pace to accommodate his companion as he walked him out, flicking off lights and locking doors behind them.

\--- (division)

It was relatively sedate as they left the building, and Will was infinitely glad that they hadn't run into anyone, though he knew it was almost impossible, given the late hour. It felt good, more than good, against the subtle coolness of the doctor at his side, something Will could almost slip away into sleep against without a second thought. The physical exhaustion that came from two orgasms was nothing on the mental exhaustion he'd been feeling, and now felt free from. So much had been plaguing his mind, even when he'd walked into the office, and now, it felt as if relief had met the stresses sitting on his shoulders. Wordlessly, he moved with Hannibal, resting his head against his shoulder comfortably until they'd made it outside and he checked that his car was indeed locked.

Hannibal waited as Will checked the lock, then genteelly opened the passenger side door of his own car for his companion. With Will tucked in to the front seat, he walked around to the opposite side and slipped behind the wheel.

He reached over and lightly caressed Will's leg, then said, "It's a short drive."

Will buckled himself into the seat, shifting a touch stiffly as his unaccustomed muscles burned with each movement. His gaze followed the doctor around the car until he got in, then Will let his eyes dip closed, feeling immediately more comfortable when they were close together again. Hannibal's presence was soothing, his touch calming, and his affections claiming and possessive.

"I'll stay awake," he murmured quietly, reopening his eyes to look across the vehicle.

Hannibal nodded, though he didn’t actually believe him. The short drive was likely going to be too long for his companion, whose eyes were already half closed again, “If not, I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

Which was what ultimately happened. The gentle sway of the car rocked the exhausted, sated profiler to sleep as Hannibal quietly told him about his day in general terms in a low, gently rolling tone. Will tried. Honestly he did. But the soothing sounds of the doctor's voice combined with the gentle and smooth ride of the vehicle over the streets caused him to slip off, a quiet dreamless state of unconscious being, curled up against the armrest with his head resting on the window. 

When they pulled up in front of Hannibal’s house, the older man paused to watch the other man in the dark for a moment and just enjoyed the knowledge that if he had wanted to, he could have done anything at all to him. Likely with his consent, and even without it there wouldn’t have been an appreciable amount of resistance. It was through Hannibal’s fondness and his personal choice not to hurt him that Will Graham was one of the safest people in Baltimore at that moment; in fact, he was protected as the psychopath watched over him. 

_St. Hannibal._

He leaned over and touched Will’s arm lightly, “Will, we are home.”

The soft touch made Will to lift his head, starting at the unexpected contact before relaxing completely when he saw who was that was waking him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," he murmured quietly, stifling a yawn against his hand. He felt embarrassed about being unable to stay awake.

Hannibal laughed in his quiet, reserved way, “It’s a tribute to my sexual prowess; I’m not offended.”

He climbed out of the car and waited for his guest, toying absently with his keys and reflecting on the sensation of putting out someone’s eye with one. He didn’t linger on it, instead turning his attention back to the exhausted man pulling himself gracelessly out of the car. 

“Do you need assistance?”

Will laughed quietly before unbuckling the seatbelt and opening the door. Every movement was slow, almost methodical, but in reality, he was just overly sore, body tired and strained, but significantly reduced in stress.

"I'll manage," he replied, his smile a bit strained. "I'm alright. Just sleepy."

Hannibal walked beside him to the door without touching him, but as soon as they crossed the threshold into the beautifully designed foyer, he rested his hand against the small of his back. He leaned closer to kiss his hair, then said, “Go have a seat in the living room. I’ll bring you a glass of wine, and there will be food in just a few minutes.”

The simple touches were enough to relax Will, putting him into a state of calmness. He nodded softly before heading further into the house and flicking on the light in the living room. It was tastefully decorated and inviting, and he paused momentarily to remove his jacket before folding it over the arm of the sofa and settling down into the corner of it. He bent to remove his shoes as well. There was a warmth in the room though the fire had not been lit, but he could still feel it. Perhaps it was just leftover from earlier actions. He didn't quite know what to make of it.

In the kitchen, Hannibal poured two glasses of wine and set them on the counter. He preferred more preparations for guests; he wasn’t really a macaroni and cheese kind of guy. While he knew that high dining would likely be wasted on Will in his present state of fatigue, he still felt something akin to being underdressed for a formal event. 

Still, he expertly sliced up an assortment of cheese and arranged it artfully on a mahogany serving board, then added several pieces of perfectly smoked, preserved meat. He rummaged in his vegetable tray for a few sprigs of green and burgundy lettuces for garnish. Carving a tomato into a rose seemed a bit much, but the addition of a few olives hastily filled with a soft bucheron cheese didn’t satisfy him. Within a moment he had crafted several little finger salads, made easy to eat by placing them into the curved, scoop-like leaves of Belgian endive. 

After adding several types of artisan crackers in an aesthetically pleasing pattern beside the cheese and charcuterie, he made the small tomato rose anyway. 

The whole preparation took just over ten minutes.

Feeling more comfortable with the presentation, he picked up the glasses of wine and brought them into the living room and set them on little stone coasters on the coffee table. With that accomplished, he looped back to the kitchen to retrieve their quickly prepared supper and brought that in to place it before his guest.

His guest who had dozed off again.

Will curled up against the arm of the sofa as he waited, mind slipping into a drowsy numbness that made him think of Keats and poetry and days long since gone. He had never really understood the concept of romance, whether through his autism or his empathic nature, nor the need for it. He was, in many ways, blunt and upfront. Hiding what someone wanted from another, it didn't make sense. For a moment, his eyes slipped shut and he sat back up with a blinking start, determined not to let himself fall asleep again. Only moments later, he was falling back into the clutches of sleep, far too used to sleeping when he could, brief as it may have been. With his arms folded against the arm of the sofa and his head resting on them, it should have been uncomfortable, but his body was too tired to really care, the lines of Keats he had memorized years ago circling around in his mind as he dozed.

Hannibal took a seat beside him, then leaned in to inhale the scent of him. He could smell the infection on him, still strong but less powerful at the moment, his soap, his dryer sheets, his dogs. More overpowering than anything else, though, he smelled like sex. Perspiration, arousal, release, exhaustion. 

He liked thinking of how Will had looked with his cheeks flushed and his lips parted and wet with his own come. He’d been so eager to be claimed in that moment, and so eager to belong specifically to the psychiatrist. He knew looking at his soft mouth and his trusting, warm eyes that Will already was his and just needed affirmation that he wanted him.

The doctor touched his hair - he had the right to touch any part of the younger man that he wanted, in his mind - and then his throat. His fingers slid very lightly over his shirt collar and hovered over his neck as though he was contemplating wrapping his hand across his windpipe. He didn’t, instead moving his hand to Will’s shoulder and squeezing lightly, “Dinner, Will...”

Will stirred lightly at the touch, the rich tone invoking his name rousing him to consciousness as he blinked sleepily. The fog over his mind receded slowly as he sat up and stretched slightly in the seat.

"I'm sorry. I must be more worn out than I thought," he murmured, straightening his legs out to fold them against the arm of the sofa where he'd been sleeping, his body angled more towards the psychiatrist. "I wasn't asleep long, was I?"

"I'm not sure... I only left you alone for about ten minutes, though," the older man replied, watching him with satisfaction, "You should eat before you pass out for the evening."

The profiler nodded, shifting around to get into a more comfortable position, looking with interest at the serving tray. "That looks good," he said with a smile, eyes still sleepy but attentive.

Hannibal nodded in acceptance of the compliment, though he replied, "I apologize that it's more suitable as an appetizer than a true supper."

His hand was still resting on Will's shoulder and he lightly rubbed his upper back for a moment. In general, he wasn't overly interested in physical contact; ironically, most of the physical contact that he had with other people occurred when he was methodically murdering them. Casual contact was otherwise used solely as a means of appearing normal or manipulating others' emotions.

As he rubbed Will's shoulder, he realized that he genuinely liked doing so. The other man's body was firm and warm, very much alive and his proximity to him felt good even without a sexual or manipulative motivation. 

He slid his fingers upward to caress the back of his neck, watching him curiously and wondering why precisely it felt so good to touch him.

Will leaned into the soft contact, the outwardly reassuring nature of the caresses making him relax further into the sofa and against the doctor. Physical contact had never been something that he was entirely keen on, but this - it seemed right, somehow. 

“Please don’t apologize. I really do appreciate it. You don’t have to go out of your way for me,” he murmured, letting his eyes close for a moment, almost as if memorizing the feel of strong and dexterous fingers against the smooth column of his neck. This was nice, pleasant, even, and the want to be close, even just for comfort seemed to be lying there just under the surface of his usually prickly exterior.

Hannibal shrugged slightly, his shoulder lifting subtly against Will’s side.

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, silently naming the muscles under his fingers, then the bones under those.

Leaning forward, he picked up a neatly sliced piece of cheese and offered it to Will delicately between his fingertips. 

“You do need to eat something, though, especially after that exertion.”

There was a moment of almost indecision in his motions before Will leaned forward to accept the morsel without taking it for himself, nipping slightly at his thumb before pulling back to chew thoughtfully.

“That has a very distinct taste, but I- I can’t place it.”

“It’s Manchego, a Spanish cheese made from raw sheep’s milk... the flavor is... nutty, I think, and a bit sweet. This has been aged longer, giving it a deeper, saltier flavor. It is perhaps reminiscent of other sheep’s milk cheeses that you have tried,” Hannibal suggested, turning his head slightly and kissing the side of Will’s neck. He was surprised to find that he liked that Will had taken it from his fingers; he had known it was a possibility, but hadn’t known exactly how he would react if it happened. Having felt Will’s breath on his fingertips and his implicit trust, his unspoken dependency, he was very pleased.

Will murmured an amused laugh at the thought of having tried other cheeses of the same variety. "That would have to have been when I was eating in your company. Anytime I buy cheese, it's whatever happens to be on sale."

To be entirely honest, his teaching salary had ended up being little more than his salary had been when he’d worked as a homicide detective, but it was enough to cover what he needed. Enough for expenses and the mortgage on the property he owned, enough to pay back his student loans and buy what he needed, but never enough to be extravagant. Not that Will was an extravagant person. He liked the kiss, the soft brush of such receptive skin against his own, and it made him shudder slightly, turning more towards Hannibal subconsciously.

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, “I will have to make a point of feeding you well, then, since I know you won’t do it for yourself.” 

He smiled and reached for an olive, which he offered up to Will’s soft mouth, “I will have to find the many ways I can indulge you.”

Will laughed softly, the edge of sleepiness audible under the warmth in his voice.

“You don’t have to,” he said amusedly. “I’ve gone long enough without knowing what it’s like that I almost don’t want to know.” What he didn’t say what how much he was afraid of having something so good and so right in his life, and then watching it disappear. Nimbly, he nipped the olive away from the doctor’s fingers, letting his tongue linger slightly on his thumb before backing off to eat.

Hannibal was pleased by that and kissed him lightly on the mouth after he’d swallowed by way of reward.

“And if I simply want to, Will?”

He shifted slightly to get more comfortable, pulling the other man up against his side. He kissed his hair, then nuzzled his lips against his temple. He could still taste the younger man on his lips and he felt a deep hunger for him that went beyond a physical hunger. He wanted to possess him, and knowing how easily he could do so was intoxicating.

Will smiled softly and scooted around to make himself more comfortable and at the same time mold himself more to the psychiatrist's body, reveling in the coolness he radiated against his own fevered self.

"I suppose I can't stop you from doing what you want, but I'm just saying its not necessary." It was a frank assessment of himself and his mental state, but he liked Hannibal, wanted to be near him, to be (he assumed) the only one who got to see him this way.

Hannibal nodded, “I’m aware.”

He picked up a piece of smoked meat and offered it to Will between his long fingers.

Will didn’t hesitate to lean forward again, taking his time at sliding the piece of meat from long slender fingers, smiling as he chewed thoughtfully. “It’s delicious.”

"Thank you; the meat I smoked myself. Rabbit can be very delicate, but it is very tender when cured properly."

Hannibal smiled comfortable, then reached for his own glass of wine. He inhaled the heady, rich aroma before taking a sip, which he followed with a piece of "rabbit" for himself. 

Watching him drink his wine had a sort of sexual excitement, an undefinable air of arousal, but Will couldnt entirely identify why. Still, curled up next to Hannibal, his exotic almost-coolness calming the fire of his skin, watching him consume the wine with an innate grace, the soft uptick of a smile in the corner of his mouth, he felt unbelievably comfortable.

Comfortable and safe.

That's what it was - safety. What a marvelous feeling.

After setting down his the glass, Hannibal picked up Will's and offered it to his guest. The younger man didn't immediately react to the wine glass, blinking before realizing he was being offered it, but moved to settle his mouth at the rim of it.

Hannibal tilted the glass several degrees, watching Will’s throat as he swallowed. When he set the glass down again on the coffee table, he leaned in and kissed the younger man’s neck, then his jaw. For some reason, he could easily imagine keeping Will as a pet. It was completely disrespectful, and even he recognized that he wanted him for more than anything that it would imply, but at the same time he could easily visualize coming home to the delicate-featured profiler waiting at the door.

Will’s thoughts ran along different lines. It was beyond comforting, having someone care for him in this way that he'd never experienced before, and Will was grateful. The soft touches of approval, the kisses of reassurance, he wanted to keep seeing them, keep experiencing them. They were a guide to appropriate actions and, despite what others may have thought, he had never been in a real relationship before. Almost shyly, he turned his face just a bit in order to kiss at the pristine stubble-free jaw of the handsome doctor, smiling up at him as he did.

The older man turned further to catch Will’s lips while he was close; he pressed a slow, sensual kiss to his mouth, sliding his tongue against his with carefully controlled desire. He lightly rubbed Will’s upper arm, then pulled back and regarded him thoughtfully before commenting, “You’re sweet like this...”

Hannibal laughed softly, then added, “Though somehow I doubt that word has been applied to you as an adult.”

Will laughed amusedly, eyes half-lidded with sleepiness and an undercurrent of want.

"I don't think anyone has ever called me sweet," he murmured, "but I think that's a compliment, so thank you." Whether it was or it wasn't, it felt nice, and he burrowed back under Hannibal's arm, curled against his side.

Hannibal chuckled quietly, then mused, "That's all I'm going to get you to eat, isn't it?"

Will mumbled something that sounded like a yes; he was far too comfortable and cool pressed up against the older man. Food wasn't a priority at the moment; sleep, however, was.

"Let's put you to bed then," Hannibal suggested, though he was fairly sure that Will would sleep where he was. He paused, then shifted to bring both the plate and his wine glass into more comfortable reach. He picked up a book from the end table and flicked on the small antique lamp beside it. 

"Though if you would like to doze here for a time, I will just read."

Will nodded sleepily against Hannibal's side, letting his eyes close. The light from the lamp was soothing rather than harsh, and he shifted comfortably to rest his head almost in the crook of his shoulder joint, feet tucked up under him as he all but leaned on the taller man.

"Just wake me when you're ready for sleep," he murmured, nestling his head down.

Hannibal nodded, resting his hand lightly on Will's shoulder. He lightly kneaded the muscles under his fingers, unconsciously knowing what they looked like beneath his skin. 

"Perhaps I should just put you to bed now...?" he commented, though there was no intention behind it. Instead, he settled in read, enjoying the solid warmth of the human lapdog beside him. 

His hand moved fluidly between stroking the profiler's face and hair, lifting his wine glass, and turning the pages of his book. Within minutes, he felt the shift and gentle slump of his companion's body that betrayed the fact that Will had fallen asleep.

Hannibal smiled to himself, continuing on as though nothing changed. His thoughts strayed lazily from his book to a review of his day, a mental accounting of hours, of positives and negatives, of wins and losses. As with most days in his charmed life, he had come out ahead; Will was asleep with his head resting against his ribs, his own heartbeat becoming natural against the profiler's ear.

His own feelings for Will fascinated him. No matter the skill he possessed in analyzing his patients or assessing a situation to find its advantage, his own thoughts were often difficult to simplify. As such, they were a source of constant fascination, and there was little that Hannibal enjoyed so much as contemplation and exploration of his own mind. What made him tick? he often wondered, and what was so interesting about Will Graham?

Whatever it was, there was a depth and a sublime quality to it - wine sweetness that he savored, something rich and clean like the low thrum of a bow across the deeper, humming strings of of a cello. He wondered if the fascination would fade if he managed to tarnish his companion, but another part of him was confident that the darkness in Will would be as enticing as his imperfect innocence. In a strange way, he wanted Will to be happy. Not necessarily for Will’s sake entirely, but because of how it would make him feel to see his lover happy. 

Taking another sip of his wine, he finally set the book aside and simply shifted back to hold the sleeping professor against him. Already, Will was associating him with rest and safety; he could feel that his sleep was untroubled by nightmares, and that his body had given itself over to a deeper sleep of long-term exhaustion. Quite obviously, Will was already his. 

It was only a matter of time before he would take everything that Will offered. And then they would begin sharing in another direction. He would begin giving himself to Will in small measures, revealing himself and sharing his deep, comforting darkness with the other man. Will would become like him: a man worthy of more than friendship.

He could see it stretched out before him like a schematic and it gave him such a self-indulgent, warming pleasure that he couldn’t contain it. He smiled and pressed a kiss to his future partner’s brow.


End file.
